As a blogger/writer/storyteller, which I am to some regard, I sometimes use the phrase that a lot of writers use: “This is hard for me to write”.
I lost my mother this past July. She passed away after a long and very sad illness. Several years ago, she had a stroke. It put her in a wheelchair and also handicapped her speech. I don’t know which was the toughest on her and my father. Two years ago, she had another stroke, and this took away her ability to talk completely and most of her ability to move or sit up or eat anything solid. I think it would be true to say I lost my Mom two years ago.
I visited her, but she wasn’t really there to talk to. There was little response. We thought or hoped she might understand, maybe she acknowledged us with a tilt of her head or a twitch of her foot. I wanted to think so anyway.
It was hard to see her fade away, and even harder to watch my Dad watch her fade away. She was his best friend and companion since 1952.
I last visited Mom sometime in June, I think. I remember giving her a soft hug; she was so thin and brittle that I could not put my arms around her the way I wanted to. I leaned against her right ear and whispered to her,
“Mom, if you are ready to leave, to go be with Jesus It is okay with me.”
I meant it; she had no life that I could see, and I thought that maybe the only thing holding her to this earth was my Dad, maybe she could not leave him, and she did not for some time.
I remember Diane and I were at the Fries, Virginia Old Time Jam, which takes place every Thursday night at the Fries Old Historic Theater. Diane plays her dulcimer, and I keep time on my modified washboard, yes, it is a Hillbilly instrument, but I love playing it and am told I am good at it too. This particular Thursday night, we ended the Jam the same way we traditionally ended it, with a gospel number, which just about all the time was “Will the Circle Be Unbroken.” Karen or Bonnie, whichever was playing bass, would sing lead. This night it was Bonnie. I was sitting next to Diane when, during the last chorus, the music stopped, and we all sang together. I suddenly had the strongest thought that my Mom would not make it through the night. The song ended, and I tried to shake off the chill that I felt.
We chatted with the other musicians while we packed up our instruments, and then headed home.
Just past one in the morning, my cell phone rang. It might have been my Dad calling me, or my sister Kam, I really don’t remember, who told me my Mom was gone.
The following Wednesday was Mom’s funeral. We drove down early so we could spend time with a large part of our family. Along with my Dad were my sisters Penni and Kam, my brother Rodney, and his wife Sharon. Our daughter, Christine, her husband, Rob, our daughter Jeri, our son Joel, and his wife, Ashley, all drove together from Virginia Beach.
I don’t like funerals. I attended so many when I was young that, as a result, I don’t like the smell of carnations, but my Mom’s funeral was not a terribly bad time for me. I felt that my Mom had left us months before, and this was a time to be thankful that her ordeal had ended, and now she really was in a better place. All of us siblings talked about our Mom, what she meant to us, and told a meaningful story about our lives with her. I told the people there that she taught me how to pray from a very young age. I asked all the folks there to say this with me:
“Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.”
I replied with this:
“She lay herself down to sleep, The Lord, her soul, he did keep. My Mom did die before awake, The Lord, her soul He did take.”
After all the kids had spoken and we heard a good message from Pastor Tim, we filed out of the church. I took my Dad by the arm as we walked behind my Mom’s casket. We concluded the service by the side of her grave.
The next night, Diane and I were once again at the Fries Old Time Jam. I could barely make it through the last song of the night. My friend Karen’s rendition of “Will the Circle Be Unbroken” just went right through me.
Weeks later, and I suspect every Thursday night for some time to come, I will still find it emotionaly hard to sing this song.
“Oh, I followed close behind her,
Tried to hold up and be brave
But I could not hide my sorrow
When they laid her in her grave
Will the circle be unbroken?
By and by, Lord, by and by
There's a better home a-waiting in the sky, Lord, in the sky.
I know my Momma is in a better home. She is unbroken, and I will see her again one day.
Derrick.